


Sorry <3

by howboutinotdothis



Series: Jared Kleinman's Guide to Being a Horrible Soulmate [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, do not read if you find that offensive idk, i only rated this as teen and up because jared draws male genitalia on his arm, nothing shippy really cause this takes place in middle school so they are children, so like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 11:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howboutinotdothis/pseuds/howboutinotdothis
Summary: It suffices to say that, on that day, Jared Kleinman did not make a good first impression on his soulmate.





	Sorry <3

**Author's Note:**

> for the deh group chat
> 
> comments/kudos/crit always welcome!

Everything changed on a warm day in mid-April.

Well, okay, that’s a bit of an overstatement—not _everything_ changed. Some things changed. You know, like Evan’s ability to wear short sleeves without being worried that an extremely detailed penis was going to appear on his skin and get him dragged to the principal’s office.

There he was, sitting in the middle of his science class, feeling the heat creeping in from the outdoors despite the air conditioning being on full blast because his science teacher has a very “damn the school, I’m going through menopause and I’m going to do what I want” mentality, thinking about different types of rocks, or something. Honestly, Evan doesn’t remember that lesson very well. He supposes learning about igneous rocks just pales in comparison to other events from that day.

Anyways, there Evan was, being as quiet and unobtrusive as he always was, when he felt sweat beading on the back of his neck and decided that it was about time to relinquish his thick sweatshirt to the near hundred degree weather. He glanced around the classroom, taking in the bored faces of his classmates, pondering whether it would be a good idea to draw attention to himself because, in his eleven years on this earth, he had not yet perfected taking off his sweatshirt without getting stuck and having to flail about helplessly for a moment or two before the article of clothing came unstuck and slid over his head, so there was no way for him to take it off without attracting the gazes of a few of his curious peers.

Feeling his body temperature spike as he started to worry about people looking at him, Evan decided that he no longer had a choice and he needed to get the sweatshirt off before he keeled over in the middle of the classroom. He carefully lifted the sweatshirt away from the t-shirt he had on underneath, peeling apart the two layers that cling together, weighed down by sweat. Then, agonizingly slowly, Evan pulled the sweatshirt up, pausing every few seconds to tug down his t-shirt in a futile effort to try to prevent the kids around him from getting an eyeful of his back or stomach. He got it over his shoulders and his head without much fuss—breathing a sigh of relief when the only one to look over at him is Alana, who offered him a smile that was not nearly as smug as it could’ve been, because she’d told him about a dozen times over the course of the morning that he needed to take his sweatshirt off because it was going to get ridiculously hot after lunch, but he didn’t listen—and then he carefully pulled his left arm out of the heavy fabric, grimacing at the angry redness of his overheated skin. He definitely should have taken his sweatshirt off earlier.

Evan didn’t pay much attention to his right arm when he pulled it out of the sweatshirt and set it back on his desk to hold down his notebook paper while he scribbled down the information he missed while he was escaping from the prison of his sweatshirt with his left hand, feeling worry bubble up in his chest when it took him more than a few minutes to catch up to their current location.

No, Evan didn’t pay his right arm any attention until he felt someone’s gaze on him and he looked up to find Alana’s eyes flickering between his face and his right forearm. Her eyebrows were raised higher than he’d ever seen them and her entire expression seemed like an exaggerated pantomime of utter shock. Afraid that he injured himself and was currently bleeding out all over his desk without noticing, Evan followed Alana’s gaze to his own forearm, feeling his heart seize painfully in his chest when he saw what had caught his friend’s attention.

His forearm was covered in doodles drawn in what looked to be black marker.

Now, while Evan wouldn’t have necessarily liked walking around with an arm covered in doodles, he wouldn’t have minded it so much if they were just flowers or suns or cute little animals. Honestly, he wouldn’t have even minded it if it was some kid’s name written over and over or a bunch of quotes or even math—in that moment, Evan would have killed for a bunch of math problems to be covering every inch of his right arm and Evan despised math.

No, Evan’s right arm was covered in penises. Poorly drawn penises, but penises all the same. Big penises, small penises, weirdly shaped penises, penises with smiling faces. Some penises were so incredibly detailed that Evan thought whoever drew it must have spent a long time staring at penises in their life.

The shocked gasp Evan let out when he saw the penises covering his arm attracted the attention of everyone in the desks around him and he could hear the tittering and whispering start up as his classmates took in the sight of Evan Hansen—dorky Evan Hansen who doesn’t make waves, who doesn’t get in trouble, who doesn’t do anything of interest—with a right arm covered in tiny penises. Evan’s face burned with shame as he quickly pulled his arm back, hitting it against the desk and letting out a pained noise that drew the attention of even more members of the class. He shoved the offending appendage under his desk, avoiding everyone’s gazes and trying to drown out the roar of whispering that filled his head. Evan couldn’t seem to catch his breath, letting out soft, panicked gasps as he tried to focus on the lesson, ears honing in on the laughter coming from the back of the class. _Oh god, oh god, oh god._ They were laughing at him—everyone was laughing at him and there was nothing he could do—he couldn’t—he couldn’t—

“Alright, what’s going on? I know you can’t be finding volcanic ash that hilarious.”

Evan stared at his notebook paper. Maybe if he just stared at his paper hard enough, his teacher would resume teaching and everything would be fine. He could put his sweatshirt back on and just suffer in the heat until he got home.

Of course, things couldn’t work out well for him because things rarely work out well for Evan Hansen and he looked up to find his teacher standing by his desk, face distorted in a look of disappointment.

Things happened relatively quickly after that. He was dragged to the boys’ bathroom and given a rough Brillo pad to clean the indecent artwork off his skin with. He nearly rubbed his skin raw before the teacher they tasked with making sure he got himself clean realized that the marker was not coming off. No matter how hard Evan scrubbed, the black ink marring his skin would not dissipate. Then Evan was dragged to the office and his mother was called and Evan had to sit in a chair in his office while his mother talked to the principal. Shame swelled in his chest as he ran his fingers over the skin covered in thick black lines and tiny scratches. Evan wasn’t an idiot—he knew what this was from. Everybody knew what it was from the moment they realized he didn’t draw it himself.

His soulmate.

Most people had cute stories about when they first saw a mark from their soulmate on their skin. They’d see stars or hearts or cute quotes. But, of course, Evan Hansen couldn’t have a cute first mark. No, Evan had to have at least thirty dicks covering every square inch of his right arm be his first mark.

Life was cruel like that.

His mother piled him into the back of the car, telling him to not be too upset, that this would all blow over by tomorrow, that his teacher would explain what was going on to the rest of the class. His stomach churned at the thought of other people knowing that the first thing he saw of his soulmate was crudely drawn male genitalia. They would laugh at him—the kids who’d already gotten marks would say what a shame it was, would say how they pity Evan, would quietly add that this didn’t speak well for his soulmate’s character, not one bit. What kind of person draws something like that when they’re nearing the age when marks start appearing? Who would be that cruel? Who would be that careless?

His right arm tingled as a breeze swept across the fresh scrapes made by the Brillo pad and Evan wished—Evan wished things were different.

In that moment, Evan wished he had a different soulmate.

He didn’t even know this person yet, but he was already wishing them away. Although, to be fair, he wasn’t wishing _them_ away exactly, he was more wishing away this bond between them. Evan had been hoping—secretly, because this wasn’t the type of thing you wished for aloud—that he wouldn’t have a soulmate. That he’d be bondless like his mother. That he’d be free of the arbitrary connection to a complete stranger that everyone hales as a sign from God. That he could continue to live his life peacefully, without making waves, without drawing attention.

The universe didn’t have a habit of giving Evan Hansen what he wanted, so he supposed he should’ve seen this coming.

When they got home, his mother set him up in the living room with some colorful kids’ program and a runny peanut butter and jelly sandwich before she jetted off to work once more, unable to afford taking the afternoon off to spend time with her son. Evan allowed the nonsensical music of the TV show wash over him as he ate his lunch, trying to ignore the additional penises appearing on his right arm.

He'd had enough right around the time his soulmate started turning his thumb into a penis. Evan marched from the living room to the kitchen and grabbed one of his mother’s pens off the counter, resting his right arm against the cool granite surface as he angrily scribbled out his message on his skin.

 _Whoever this is, please stop drawing these. I got sent home from school because of this_ , Evan wrote, tacking on an angry face beside it for good measure. His message took up the only expanse of skin he had left on his right arm that wasn’t already taken up by penises, so he wasn’t expecting a response.

Of course, because the powers that be liked dashing Evan’s expectations, thick black lines appeared on his left arm, forming a shakily written word. _Sorry_ , it said, with something that Evan supposed was a heart beside it. Sorry. Sorry was all he was going to get for this morning’s public humiliation. Sorry was all he was going to get for his mother having to take off work to come get him. Sorry was all he was going to get for falling behind in class.

That was the day Evan made a decision.

Whoever this soulmate of his was, he didn’t want anything to do with them.

Little did he know that his soulmate, one Jared Kleinman, was desperately trying to wash off the dicks he’d spent his day at home drawing to pass the time, wracked with guilt for getting his soulmate sent home.

It suffices to say that, on that day, Jared Kleinman did not make a good first impression on his soulmate.


End file.
